“Don’t mention it,” said Mr. Michaelson as Morris started up the last flight.  When he entered the Equinox Clothing Company’s office the clang of the bell drowned out the last words of Marks Henochstein’s sentence.  Mr. Henochstein, another member of the real-estate fraternity, was in intimate conference with Harris Rabin.

“I think we got him going,” he was saying.  “My wife seen Mrs. Perlmutter at a Kaffeeklatsch yesterday, and she told her I made you an offer of forty-eight four-fifty for the house.  Last night when he came around to your place I told him the house ain’t no bargain for any one what ain’t a real-estater, y’understand, and he gets quite mad about it.  Also, I watched him when Ike Magnus tells you he would give forty-eight five for it, and he turned pale.  If he——­”

At this juncture the doorbell rang and Morris entered.

“No, sir_ee_, sir,” Harris Rabin bawled.  “Forty-nine thousand is my figure, and that ain’t forty-eight nine ninety-nine neither.”

Here he recognized Morris Perlmutter with an elaborate start and extended his hand in greeting.

“Hallo, Mawruss,” he said.  “Them real-estaters pester the life out of a feller.  ’Tain’t no use your hanging around here, Henochstein,” he called in sterner tones.  “When I make up my mind I make up my mind, and that’s all there is to it.”

Henochstein turned in crestfallen silence and passed slowly out of the room.

“Them sharks ain’t satisfied that you’re giving away a house, Mawruss,” Harris went on.  “They want it you should let ’em have coupons and trading stamps with it.”

“How much did he offer you?” Morris asked.

“Forty-eight five-fifty,” Harris Rabin replied.  “That feller’s got a nerve like a horse.”

“Oh, I don’t know,” Morris murmured.  “Forty-eight five-fifty is a good price for the house, Harris.”

“Is it?” Harris cried.  “Well, maybe you think so, but you ain’t such a griterion.”

Morris was visibly offended at so harsh a rejoinder.

“I know I ain’t, Harris,” he said.  “If I was I wouldn’t be here, Harris.  I come here like a friend, not like one of them—­them—­fellers what you talk about.  If it wasn’t that my Minnie is such a friend to your daughter Miriam I shouldn’t bother myself; but, knowing Alec Goldwasser as I do, and being a friend of yours always up to now, Harris, I come to you and say I will give you forty-eight six hundred for the house, and that is my last word.”

Harris Rabin laughed aloud.

“Jokes you are making it, Mawruss,” he said.  “A joke is a joke, but when a feller got all the trouble what I got it, as you know, Mawruss, he got a hard time seeing a joke, Mawruss.”

“That ain’t no joke, Harris,” Morris replied.  “That’s an offer, and I can sit right down now and make a memorandum if you want it, and pay you fifty dollars as a binder.”

“I’ll tell you what I’ll do, Mawruss,” Harris said.  “You raised Henochstein fifty dollars, so I’ll come down fifty dollars, and that’ll be forty-eight thousand nine hundred and fifty.”